Peace, Love & Grief – Page 4 – There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and a love that is always remembered

Peace, Love, and Grief – Reminders of Life

I had lost a few people I loved before Bruce. I had experienced the loss of all my grandparents, a great Aunt, and a child. Except my child, most were what we would consider “normal” in the cycle of life. The thing was, I never really grieved them. No one walked me through it… In fact, no one even gave me permission to grieve them.

The message that I received from my parents and their faith was that I should rejoice that my loved ones were “in a better place” and “it was a blessing”. I can’t tell you how I felt about it, because honestly, I didn’t question it at the time… with the exception of the loss of my child. That one was a struggle for years… To be told that one’s emotions and sadness are somehow wrong or bad is awful, and I resented not being allowed to grieve that loss.

It was also very unhealthy not to grieve those losses, as I learned when Bruce died… Suddenly all the hurt and pain of those other losses were felt all over again, only this time, I refused to be told how to feel or act. Within the first several months, I realized that I would have to process my feelings from the past losses before I could even begin to work through my grief for Bruce…. And so, I did… It was not quick, and it was not easy.

All of that grief felt so overwhelming… It felt like I couldn’t even breathe just thinking about all of it. I wanted the world to stop… just for a little while until I could catch up to it… But we all know that doesn’t happen. No matter how badly we are hurting the world continues on… Life goes on.

(Now a days, I find myself looking at the people passing me by, and I wonder how many of them are dealing with deep hurt in that very moment… And what can I do to help? Say hello? Offer a smile? A kind nod or gesture?)

I struggled for a long time to move forward… I couldn’t seem to find my footing on a path that I didn’t want to be on in the first place. There were so many days that first year where simply breathing felt like a miracle… and getting out of the bed and going about my day… Those were even bigger miracles!

Oh my gosh!! And all the emotions that go with grief! No one warns you about that. I had no idea that my own emotions could flip around so much in the course of one ordinary day… but they did. In fact, one of the hardest things to overcome was my own judgmental reactions to myself. For example, during that first year or two, if I smiled or laughed, my immediate reaction to myself was to shut it down… fast! How dare I find any joy in this world when Bruce was no longer here to feel joy. I would start to smile only to remind myself that Bruce no longer had the chance to smile… Knowing that, how could I even think of smiling?

All of that may sound crazy, but it was how I felt… I was so caught up in what he could no longer do, that I forgot… (or wouldn’t allow myself) to live my own life… The one still in front of me… The one with promise and hope… Although, that promise and hope seemed invisible at the time.

I found it hard to enjoy the flowers as they blossomed that first spring remembering how much Bruce looked forward to that whole season. After so many years of Michigan winters, spring always brought a smile to his face that lasted the entire season.

While singing had always been a huge part of who I was as a person, suddenly, I couldn’t do it. Music had always held so much joy for me, but without Bruce, joy only brought guilt… and I literally couldn’t bring myself to sing for years.

Why am I telling you this now? … Because in the last few years, I am finally learning to enjoy life again – without the guilt from before. With lots of love and patience from friends and family, I am finally able to drop all the self-chastisement and “give myself permission”, if you will, to not only live again, but to actually enjoy the process… To look for the little things that bring me joy and to say thank you to the Divine for each and every one…

And with spring finally here again, I can look at all the beautiful reminders of life and know – truly know deep in my heart – that life is still beautiful and wonderful… and something to be treasured as I truly and completely live each moment I am given.

“When my own mama died, I spent a lot of time on the beach staring at the water until I learned what I was supposed to. And I did. I finally figured out that when the waves come ashore and wipe away all the footprints, it’s like God telling you that starting again is part of life.”
~ Karen White, The Sound of Glass

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

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Peace, Love, and Grief – Time is Precious

As I write this, the Christian community is contemplating Good Friday. The day Jesus was crucified. The day Jesus died. The day those who loved him, those who called him “Teacher” and “Rabbi” witnessed his horrific death. The day his own mother watched him die a tortuous death.

According to the Christian tradition, that isn’t the end of the story, though. According to the Christian faith, Easter happened a few days later… According to those beliefs, Jesus didn’t stay dead… He rose again and lives still.

While I know that is what today (the day you are reading this) is about, that isn’t the part I want to focus on. I want to go back to that Friday… That death… That pain that all those who loved Jesus must have felt. They had no idea what was coming. All they knew was that this person… This man… Their friend… Her son… was dead… gone. Also, keep in mind, according to tradition, the sky went dark when Jesus died, because even God felt all the emotions of grief, including anger.

Today, I wonder if all those grieving people felt the same way so many of us do when we are grieving… That feeling of “I can’t believe they are gone”. I wonder if they said the same thing we all tell ourselves afterward… Time is so precious. I wonder if they second guessed those last days, weeks, or months like we tend to do… Did I spend my time with them wisely?… Do I have any regrets?… Is there anything I would have done different if I were given the chance to do even one day over again?

… I wonder if that is our connection in that story…

I have written that phrase so many times, both here and in my journal… “Time is precious.” I don’t really have any regrets about Bruce and my time together. That is probably because I think of regrets as things that are more negative like time spent fighting or being angry. That didn’t happen. As I wrote last week, our last week together was so incredibly normal. Yet, there are things I would have done different, if I had known that was his last week… month… or year…

I would have taken more vacation days and spent them with him. I would have gone with him that last Thursday to watch the sunrise on the beach. I would have spent more time listening… I mean really listening to what he said and what he didn’t say. I probably would have asked a million questions trying to get to know every last part of him before it was too late. I would have cried… a lot. I would have held him longer and kissed him at every opportunity…

But I didn’t know, and I didn’t do any of those things… Why?

I think that is because living your life like that would be kind of weird… That really isn’t how any of us live our lives. We love those around us, and we appreciate all that they add to our lives. At the same time, we each live the life we were called to live. We don’t drop everything in our world to focus on someone else (or at least we shouldn’t) because that isn’t healthy.

Yet, I still say it, and I still believe it… Time is precious.

So how do we live like we mean that?

I have spent the last decade since Bruce died, trying to make good use of my time. Learning how to be me and all that might entail… Figuring out my faith… Learning to accept and love myself… Learning to simply “Be” … Trying to be present in each moment… Trying to maintain relationships that are loving and healthy… Learning to forgive and let go, while still maintaining boundaries that allow me to live a healthy life… Not forcing relationships, but leaving the door cracked, just in case… Remembering that to be present in each moment includes feeling whatever is there, whether I am loving, laughing, crying, or discovering.

Do I always get it right? Of course not! However, that pursuit is what life is all about – figuring out all of these things that make us who we are is exactly what allows us to love the world and all that is in it. It is what allows me to see the divine in each and every person and connect with them at that point… even when we are getting everything else terribly wrong. It is what allows me to get up each and every morning and start again – fresh. It is why I call my aging parents every week, as well as my family that is so far away. It is why I don’t give up on those relationships that are currently upside-down or the ones that seem hopelessly lost.

The death and resurrection of Jesus gives us hope… It shows us how to connect to the Christ within all of us. The death of Bruce showed me that time really is precious. At the same time, it isn’t about trying to spend every minute with every person – I can’t… That isn’t realistic. Instead, for me, it is about living my purpose in each moment and touching those lives that want to be a part of mine… It is about creating those precious memories filled with love, because we know that tomorrow just might be too late… So, I will need to do the best that I can with this moment and this day… No pressure to do anything more… or anything less.

For me, I do believe that one day I will see Bruce again… I believe that one day he and I will celebrate our Easter… Our resurrection and transformation… Until that time comes, though, I have promised myself that I will do all I can to live each and every moment knowing how precious our time here truly is.
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – A Holy Week

For those of us raised or practicing the Christian faith, we know that this coming week – the week before Easter – is generally referred to as Holy Week. Different denominations and churches will do different things to commemorate this particular week. Growing up Southern Baptist, I don’t actually recall any special services other than Palm Sunday. (There may have been other services offered; we just didn’t attend any that I remember.)

The stories about the events of that week were told in Sunday School, so I have been familiar with them since childhood. However, I don’t recall the emphasis on how those events were set into motion, nor how they impacted the events of Good Friday and Easter.

That emphasis, however, was driven home when I joined the Roman Catholic faith as a young adult. At that time, I learned about the 40 days of Lent, as well as the somberness of the events of Holy Week. There was a special day (Ash Wednesday) to start the season of Lent. “Sacrifices” were expected to be made throughout Lent. (“What are you giving up?” was a common discussion or homily topic.) As well as special services each night throughout Holy Week to lead us up to Good Friday, where the entire church went into mourning. There was no service on Good Friday. Everything in our church was draped in black, and silence was usually observed from noon – 3pm in memory of the time Jesus hung on the cross.

Then more silence on Saturday as we waited…

And finally, the resurrection on Easter Sunday, when suddenly there was color and smiles and music and… life… sweet precious life… Salvation through resurrection was and is the message proclaimed on that day.

So, what does all of that have to do with this blog? How is it even remotely connected to what we encounter on this grief journey… this “new normal”? Let me explain…

This week I was challenged to take my thoughts on this liturgical season a little bit further when I read an article called, What Makes a Week Holy, by Rev. Jacquie Fernandez, in the March/April 2024 edition of Unity Magazine. Here I want to take what she says and expand on it to include our journey… (To be clear, these are her ideas with my expansion of them.)

My thought is that we all have a holy week… However, my question is… Can we see it as such?

Holy Week for Jesus was not a good week… It was a week filled with a lot of hardship and emotion. It was a time in his career when he was considered a “star” in his own right. Things seemed to be going well. He found himself surrounded by the curiosity of the crowds who wanted to see what he was all about… The people – his people were overwhelmed with love for this man. Life seemed to be going in the right direction… until it wasn’t…

Does any of that sound familiar?

It does for me. The week before Bruce passed on January 12, started with Epiphany… A celebration of the Wise Men visiting Jesus… A day of gift-giving in remembrance of that legendary visit. Bruce was not raised in a faith that celebrated Epiphany, and since it followed closely behind Christmas, he often (okay… always) forgot about it. To save any feelings of disappointment that last year, I purchased a gift from and to both of us. (Nothing required on his part.) The look of relief on his face that morning was priceless! The gift wasn’t anything big or amazing, but the impact it had on the day and our relationship was everything I could have hoped for. It was definitely a great way to start the week… no hard feelings, no guilt… and no regrets.

While we both had two days off a week, the only one we shared was Sunday. Bruce’s other day off was Thursday. That week, like any other week, was “normal”. We started each day as always, going through our morning routines and kissing each other good-bye as we went our separate ways, texting throughout the day (little things that were only important to the two of us), greeting each other with hugs and kisses back at home, and finally, retiring for the night in each other’s arms – all snuggly and cozy – as we let the peace of slumber fill us with the comfort of normalcy… Life was good.

On Thursday, his day off, Bruce went to watch the sunrise at the beach, sending me photos and a message that read, “My only regret this morning is that you aren’t here to share this with me.” Of course, I smiled and responded with, “Next time. <3”

Only there would not be a “next time”…

Friday… Our “good Friday”… started like any other day with kisses good-by as we each left for work. A few text messages were exchanged throughout the day, as we let each other know what time to we expected to be home, and what to do for dinner… All normal… All good… All with the expectation of more days just like this one…

I beat Bruce home that night by about two or more hours. When I finally heard his SUV in the driveway, I ran out to greet him with a kiss and to help him carry his things into the house. I had already eaten hours ago, but I still sat with him at the table as he ate, and we discussed our Sunday plans for kayaking. Then, off to bed – all snuggly and cozy, as we again let the peace of slumber fill us with the comfort of normalcy.

Then at 1:15 am, it started… I awoke to Bruce dying…

The days, weeks, and months that followed were some of the hardest I have ever endured. The shock and trauma of the actual event, plus the grief and loneliness of his loss were overwhelming to say the least. I found myself in deep, deep depression for several years – trying to find my way back… trying to be okay…

Finally, more than a decade later, I can say that I am enjoying life again… I miss Bruce immensely. Yet, somewhere on this spiritual journey, (one inspired and supported by him), I am finally understanding that our connection is not over.

If anything, just like my salvation is found in the resurrection of Jesus, which is transformational (not the death, which is transactional), finding my way on this spiritual path has also led to a resurrection of my heart… A transformation that is connected to the Divine within and all around… A connection that includes the loving energy Bruce added to my life and allows me… no… encourages and inspires me to see that same Divine energy all around me, allowing me to see all things and everyone as a Divine creation.

If I go a step further and define “holy” as “wholeness; being made whole”, then my perspective on that last week together and the years since also take on a whole new meaning.

Like Jesus, my own “holy week” was filled with normal life events that turned into an agonizing traumatic event… Watching and holding the person with whom I was integrally connected die… Then the days, months, and years spent hiding… waiting… too scared to move and too scared to stay still. Until (with Bruce’s legacy as my guide), I found my own faith – one that created real transformation from within… One that has resurrected my life and allows me to laugh… and love… and live – really live my life again.

I’m not trying to be sacrilegious in making this comparison. Quite the opposite… I am trying to point out the holy gifts in our own lives that may not feel like a gift as we usually define it… I am trying to give us something of value to validate our own experiences… Something that makes those events holy because they have the ability to make us whole by enabling a Divine connection that we might miss otherwise.

So, my question today is… When was your holy week? And… Have you/Can you work through it to find your own holy resurrection… your own transformation back into a Divinely connected life? … Back to a place of wholeness?

“…if you picked a day out of your own week or month or year, whatever season of transformation you might find yourself in – would you be able to call the worst of it holy? A new perspective such as this is indeed a sacred gift.” ~ Rev. Jacquie Fernandez, What Makes a Week Holy/Unity Magazine, March/April 2024 ________________________________________________________

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – The Last Say

I was born a female in the south in the 1960’s… which should tell you a lot about the culture in which I grew up. As a toddler, my family changed to a fundamentalist, strictly authoritarian religion… which should tell you a little bit more. Of course, this also led to living in a home that reflected all of these things – a culture where women were considered “less than” with a church and home that supported that line of thought (and the threat of hell if you didn’t).

I am not speaking out of anger or malice. I am simply stating facts… Facts that had a huge effect on how I viewed myself. I am also not speaking out of self-pity. Everyone I knew or had contact with was just like me – the culture of the time, the religion, and the way “power” was distributed within the home. I felt love, and I knew kindness, but mostly from the women in my world – my mother, and my grandmothers. God (as “father”) and the men in our world represented “authority” and held all the power. For the most part, (with the exception of my grandfather), my relationship with the men in my life was more about fear than love. However, because I didn’t know anything different, I didn’t want anything different. It was simply the way it was.

Until it wasn’t…

With my first marriage, I began to actually see the world with all of its glorious variety. My first husband was in the military, so while my religion and family life continued to hold those same authoritarian values of my childhood, I was finally getting a glimpse of something else… Granted, this was also a time of massive cultural change in most parts of the world, so it wasn’t just the fact that I had left my protective bubble. Yet, as the world opened up for me, I began to have friends who were respected in their homes… whose voices and opinions were not only heard but were also often acted on… in a positive way.

At the time, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with all of that. It seemed so foreign. It felt wrong and wonderful all at the same time. How could my thoughts be worth listening to? Was this something God ordained as “okay” or was I “risking my soul” if I chose to speak up? My own self-esteem was not in a place that would allow me to even begin thinking of myself as worthy of having an equal seat at anyone’s table – much less God’s or my husband’s.

It took well over 20 years for me to finally start turning my own thoughts around, and even then, it didn’t happen quickly. It was more like turning the Titanic… It was slow… So slow, in fact, that I couldn’t avoid hitting an iceberg here and there.

My first marriage was the first of those icebergs.

I did finally conclude that that environment was one of abuse which I could no longer tolerate, but there was already so much damage done. Still… there was less damage than if I continued on that course… Despite all the damage endured, it was my first step in healing… It was my first step in recognizing my own value and worth on this planet. It was the first time I realized that I had a purpose, and that purpose was not to be the target of someone else’s lack of self-control or unhealthy drive for “power over”.

Then, along came Bruce.

Bruce was one of the first men in my life to be interested in me as a person – who I was, what I thought, and what I was passionate about. He also recognized where I had been, where I wanted to go, and encouraged me every step of the way. He would laugh with me as I found joy in the simple things that had never been available to me before, and he held me safely in his arms when my world felt scary and ominous. It was wondrously refreshing to be with someone who was simply interested in who I was – not who I thought I was expected to be.

Of course, this, then, resulted in hitting the next iceberg – my faith…

Was it mine? Or was it something that had been handed to me? Something I wasn’t allowed to question… Something I was supposed to accept at face value, even if my own experiences told me something different… screamed something different. What if the God I knew wasn’t the God of my parents? Was that okay?

I have written about this so many times… how I left the church only a few short months before Bruce passed… how I cried for two weeks solid – not sure where to go or what to do next. Then, when Bruce died. I felt completely lost… and with no faith that was mine, I felt like I had nowhere to turn.

However, like any good story, we know that the hero in the story must go through a challenge or battle before they get their “happily ever after” … And my story has been no different. Through the past 11+ years, I have worked hard to reshape my own faith… Making sure that as I de-construct and reconstruct what I believe, I examine it from every angle – verifying that it is what I believe in before moving to the next step.

It has been a long journey, and one that is far from over. Yet, here is what I know so far…

No one else gets to tell me what or who I should be… I alone get to have the last say about who I am. I don’t want to say Bruce would be proud of me for that, because, honestly, that doesn’t matter… That isn’t my goal. However, I do believe he would be happy (maybe even over-joyed) for me that I have finally learned my value and worth in this world and in the eyes of the Divine.

And I thank him for always believing in and encouraging me. He is a gift I will always cherish… I love you, Babe – always and forever!
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – My Yayas

This past week, according to the calendar, we celebrated International Women’s Day on Friday. I love this day. Not simply because I am a woman, but because it is a reminder to celebrate all of the wonderful women who have guided me and/or traveled alongside me on this journey. These women are my tribe. They are my yayas.

I know. What are “yayas”?

Well, in ancient Greece, yaya literally meant “woman”. In later years and other cultures, it came to mean one’s mother, grandmother, or even a female priestess. In a deeper perspective, one could say this word “represents the highest form of woman, achieved only through initiation, experience, and longevity.” (1) In more modern terms, yayas are defined as “a group of three of more women whose hearts and souls are joined together by laughter and tears shared through the glorious journey of life.” (2) This is the definition, I am using today when I say, “I am so very thankful for my yayas!”

Not all of my yayas are widows. In fact, that term would only apply to a tiny handful. However, that doesn’t mean the rest of my tribe haven’t known loss or pain… They have… They all have in one form or another. They have all known the pain that comes from deep-rooted loss… And while this isn’t what joins us together, it is what inspires them to travel with me on this journey, whether that is for one or two steps or for much longer.

They all seem to understand that “we must climb the hard side of the bridge to come down on the other side.” (3) They also understand that it is easier to climb that “hard side of the bridge” when you are not alone. Just having someone to lean on every now and then makes such a difference on that “hard side”. I can’t tell you how many times, on this journey, I thought I was alone. I would have sworn I was completely alone… but I wasn’t. They were there… In some form or fashion, they were right there.

Even though I might not have recognized that they were there at the time, I know without a doubt that they were. I know this because I also know that I could not have survived this journey without them… I struggled a lot in the beginning. I did not want to be here without Bruce. So, I know that each and every one of them made a tremendous difference in my journey.

Each one, at some point stepped up and took their place beside me. Some have coached me. Some have cried with me. Some have picked me up off the ground when I didn’t think I could take another step. Some showed me how to laugh again, and others showed me how to run head-long into the wind. The point is each one had a strength and a gift to offer that helped me get where I am today.

Research tells us that women do something that men don’t do. When times are hard, when our souls feel completely diminished, women will reach out to each other. We know and understand the strength that comes to each of us when we join together and hold each other up.

This is not something most men do. According to this same research, men tend to hide their hurt, and tuck it away. The idea of calling up their buddies to discuss their emotions and pain, is generally not done in male culture. (I’m not saying always – I’m saying generally.)

Maybe that is why women live longer… Because we share our burdens rather than struggle alone. I don’t know… I’m just guessing. But I do know this… If it weren’t for my yayas, I would not still be here. I could not have managed the pain of grief by myself.

These women are my heroes. They are my family, and they are my friends. They are my spiritual sisters and my beacons of light when the path seems pitch black.

They are my yayas… And I am forever grateful for every single one.

1 – Mom.com

2 – The Oogie Boogie Witch, FaceBook

3 – Unknown
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Finding Courage for the Lesson in Front of Us

I am a firm believer that when we come to this earth, we each have a purpose… a reason for being here… And to accomplish that purpose, there are lessons we must learn along the way. I also believe that if we don’t “get” the lesson when it is presented to us, that same lesson will keep reappearing over and over and over… until we do. These lessons happen throughout our lifetime, because we need them to achieve our purpose… and we are here until that purpose is achieved.

That being said, I will honestly say that there are some lessons I have not learned the first time around… or the second… of the third. There are some lessons that I have struggled with, but this week, I think I broke a hole in that barrier… and I can’t stop smiling.

I have shared before that my first marriage was one of chaos and domestic violence. I have also shared that I was diagnosed with PTSD after I left, and just recently began undergoing an intense (kinda weird) therapy for it. It is a therapy called EMDR, and it involves reprocessing past traumas so that you can move forward in a healthy way.

First of all, let me be honest that my first marriage was not the cause of all of my trauma to date. We all have traumatic events throughout our lifetime. I am no different than any of you, in that regard. However, I never processed them in a healthy way, so they have continued to affect my life in an unhealthy way. As we began this therapy, it became apparent that Bruce dying in my arms was probably the one event that was the most traumatic for me, and hence, the first one I tackled first many months ago.

To begin the EMDR, my therapist had me list several traumatic events that I have struggled with through the years – some from childhood, some from my 1st marriage, and some from my recent past. Then, we have been tackling one at a time. With each one, I give her a summary of the event. Then, we discuss how I felt (and still feel) when I think about that event. It didn’t take long to find a pattern… Consistently, I was left feeling either powerless in the event or that I “wasn’t enough” and so I “deserved” it in a way. (I believe that sounds like a lesson I may have missed somewhere.)

Now let me change gears a little bit… (I will pull it all together in a moment – you’ll see.)

I recently started a new job. I was excited. The job was doing what I love to do. The salary and benefits were fine… and the person I interviewed with seemed full of energy and excitement. I was pumped!
However, there were red flags from day one. I saw them. I even noted them in my journal. However, I chose to ignore them. I told myself that I had spent 17 years in one place. I was just used to things being a certain way. I needed to give it time.

However, as time passed, those red flags got bigger and bigger. Promises that were made to me when I was offered the position disappeared almost immediately. Then, I began to notice how other people were also being treated. (Not by the company as a whole, just one person… one person with power.) There was no respect. Many times, this person would say that they wanted to make the employees feel bad. (I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it.) People’s thoughts and opinions were dismissed like dust into a trash bin. Unreasonable demands were made, and the discomfort in the office was palatable.

Then, I started being asked to do things that go completely against my core values. (I’m not saying this was a bad company. It was one person who was not a good fit for me.) I know it sounds silly, but I swear I could feel my soul slowly withering away day by day. It reached a point where I was sick in the morning before driving in and cried all the way home.

I was feeling completely powerless. (Sound familiar?) Yet, I was not even recognizing it for what it was… I was simply accepting it.

Last month, I came across a quote, “One cannot live a healthy life in an unhealthy environment.” (I wish I could remember where I found it or who said it, but I can’t. I simply copied it onto a sticky note and stuck it to my monitor in my home office, where I could see it daily. That quote become my mantra and my inspiration… and I realized that I could not stay here and be a healthy person. I did not need to give it time… I needed to leave.

So, I started a new job search. Quietly, I reached out to friends… I started networking and applying again… I couldn’t help but feel like Bruce would be proud of me. Instead of staying and feeling powerless, I was doing something about it. I was doing something for me that was healthy… I was taking steps to change my world for the better.

And this past week the offer I was seeking came, and I accepted. I will be working for someone I know… A true leader… Someone with integrity and a respect for her employees. So, my next step was to give my two weeks’ notice, which I did the following day…

It did not go well…

That same person became angry… not a little bit angry… I mean really angry. I was stunned. I felt myself going back to my old behavior of trying make myself smaller and just “taking it”. That feeling of being powerless, once again, took hold. This person started telling me how they were going to treat me over the next two weeks and ended it with, “I will make sure these last two weeks are hell.” And that was it… The Zoom call was over. I was left stunned… and shaken… and crying… until I looked over and read “One cannot live a healthy life in an unhealthy environment.”

And I sat up in my chair a little bit straighter… Then, I remembered the last several EMDR sessions where we have reprocessed so many events (similar to this one) where I felt powerless. Yet in the reprocessing, I had taken back my power… And that is exactly what I decided to do.

First, I reached out to HR, but they were busy and said they could talk to me next week. Then, I spent the rest of that day and into the night, creating folders and organizing information that my co-workers would need. I wrote a summary of the conversation that had just happened while it was still fresh in my mind. Then, I wrote three letters: One letter was to my peers simply saying that life sometimes takes a turn that we aren’t expecting, and while I was sorry not to say a proper goodbye, I thanked them for all they mean to me. The second was to HR to give a quick report of what happened and my personal contact information if they want to discuss anything further. Then finally, my actual letter of resignation… which now said, “effective immediately”. You see, in Florida, I am not required to give two weeks’ notice. I was simply trying to do the right thing. I also don’t need to stop that person’s behavior – that is theirs to own… At the same time, I don’t have to simply “take it”, because I am not powerless after all!

I finally found the courage to master that lesson that has been presented to me over and over and over. I am not responsible for someone else’s behavior, nor do I need to absorb their emotions. I don’t have to “take it”. I don’t have to respond or react to it. I can simply… walk away… with my head held high and my emotions in check.

… And that is what I did… I finally found the courage for the lesson in front of me…

No, it isn’t a big, grand story to anyone but me. Yet, I know this is a lesson I have been trying to learn for most of my life… This is what Bruce was always trying to help me see in myself… (I think he would be so proud of me.) … This is the lesson I needed to learn so that I can take that next healthy step on this journey.

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Finding a Space to Belong

“The world is in a tender place – that space between no longer and not yet.”
~ Joan Borysenko

I found this quote this week and have hung onto it – mulling it over and sitting with it as it speaks to my heart. I think since Bruce died; I have struggled to figure out where I fit in now. I am no longer part of an “us”, but I certainly don’t feel like a “me” either.

In the dictionary, a widow is defined as “a woman who has lost her spouse by death and has not remarried.” Yet, my experience has been so much more than that. Of course, there is no mention in the dictionary of how that looks and feels… and I get it. Everyone’s experience will be different. Yet the simplicity of that definition just leaves out so much. It makes it sound like so much less than it really is.

I have spent years trying to find the space where I am comfortable… But I’m not sure that place can exist until I am comfortable within my own skin in my own situation. Don’t get me wrong. I am beyond blessed with people all around me who love me – family and friends who have stuck by me through the darkest nights and the happiest days… But it’s me learning to be comfortable as me when I will always miss the “us” that was Bruce and I.

Then, I stumbled on this quote where she mentions that “tender place” … And she describes it so well – “that space between no longer and not yet.” That is where I think I am… in that “tender place”. A place that is so fragile, I am almost scared to breathe – much less move.

Trust me… I know Bruce is gone. That is my reality. I live it day in and day out. I understand that this is how it is – like it or not; accept it or not… This is the life I am given… for now.

Yet, my faith also tells me that this is not the end. I believe that life is made of energy and energy never dies. Therefore, I firmly believe that whether you are rationally scientific or spiritual/religious, there is a good argument for the continuation of life in some form. I also believe that Bruce and I will see each other again. Honestly, if I didn’t believe that I don’t know if I would even want to go on.

… But I do go on… and I want to. I want to do whatever it is I am supposed to do while I am here. I want to spend time with my kids and my family. I want to laugh with my friends and watch the moon rise over the ocean with my sisters. I want to continue my own self-growth and share my love freely with others. I want all those things and so much more.

Yet this space where I find myself is a tender place. It is fragile. It can sometimes feel like I am walking on a thin sheet of glass. I must take each step gingerly and carefully – knowing that the next step may be the one that causes the glass beneath me to shatter.

But isn’t that life? Not necessarily a cautious dance, but more of a mindful one… A dance where I want to notice and appreciate each step along the journey. A dance where I am not wary or too scared to move at all. Instead, I want to be vigilant of everything and take it all in.

I think for me… finding that space where I belong has become a dance of appreciation for what is, while remembering what was and looking forward to what is yet to come. I don’t know where I will end up. Shoot, I don’t even know what tomorrow will hold, but…

… I will continue to dance… I will continue to take one step at a time… And I will continue in this “tender space” – grateful for each soul that joins me along the way – whether that is for one step… or a thousand.

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Finding Comfort

I don’t know about you, but I hate the empty platitudes that are spoken when someone dies. When Bruce died, I remember people saying all the things… “He’s in a better place.” “God needed another angel.” “This is a blessing because <fill in the blank>.” I know people mean well… I understand that their hearts are in the right place, but… no… please, no!

Those phrases are not comforting… At least, not for everyone and definitely not for me. I was angry, and I was hurting. Those words only increased those emotions. Bruce and I were a match… at team… a pair. Life without him made no sense… Death made no sense. I was hurting… Shoot, most days I still hurt.

I know those platitudes are meant well. I really do understand that. But do the people who say them understand how empty they are when your soul is ripped in two? I doubt it, because if they did, I don’t think those words would ever leave their mouths.

So where do we find comfort? Where do we turn when the world is spinning out of control and our anchor is gone?

I have shared before that when Bruce died, I had just recently walked away from the church… not my faith, but the organized religion where I had practiced that faith for so long. I needed comfort from somewhere, and I had no idea where that would come from.

In hindsight, I can tell you that it came from those people who simply came and sat in my grief with me… no lectures… no platitudes… no toxic positivity… or religious-based guilt.

Let me give you just one example… I remember my sister simply sitting with me as I cried and holding me. She never offered empty platitudes. Instead, she validated my pain by moving into that space with me. She never ssh’d me or told me to stop crying. She never said that it would be okay or told me to move on. She didn’t expect me to meet her where she was… no… She came and met me where I was… and held that space with me… Because of her, I wasn’t alone. I may have felt alone… I may have felt abandoned… My pain was so great at that time I couldn’t past it to see her there. However, at this point, I can tell you that I was not alone… She walked beside me all the way… and still does.

What a gift! That was comfort.

“As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you.”

~ Isaiah 66:13

To this day, I will tell whoever will listen that when she did that, I believe that is what God means when she says she will give comfort…

Verse after verse in the Bible talks about the comfort of God for those who are grieving. After all, even Jesus grieved when his friend died… In other words, God gets it! God knows death and grief hurt, and she hurts when we hurt. Just like my sister… or through my sister, God has always been there… The divine spark within each of us, and my sister choosing to use her divine spark and simply sit with me in my pain… Crying with me when I cried out… and holding me when I didn’t want to be here alone.

I remember being told by someone at the grief “support” group that I attended a few times that it was a sin to grieve. I don’t believe that… In fact, I think that is crap. I believe that grief and pain and death are all a part of the human experience. (period) It’s hard… and God gets it… over and over, she gets it.

God’s love comforts and sooths my soul. ~ The Daily Word, Feb 15, 2024

So, while it still hurts… and I still cry… I know I am not alone. God is here… within me as the Divine… and beside me flowing through my friends and family to comfort my heart. She is my strength… through each of these wonderfully, loving people… and I am so very grateful.

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Absence

“The problem with death is absence.”
~ Roger Rosenblatt

Well, that says it all. I’m done.

Just kidding… well kind of… It really does seem to encapsulate the whole grief experience in a few succinct words… but I still want to linger with those words just a little bit.

Death brings up so many emotions in all of us, and those emotions can change not only each day, but with each breath. There have been times when I didn’t know what to do with all those emotions, especially in the beginning. For me, though, no matter what other emotions were in my heart, always in the periphery (if not in the foreground) were the feelings of loneliness and abandonment.

I know it sounds silly. Shoot, even to my rational mind, I know it is silly. However, from the moment I stood there and watched EMS working on Bruce, yelling at him in my mind to just breathe, but instead watching the line on the monitor remain flat, I felt like he had abandoned me. Logically, I knew better… I still know better. Yet, there is this part of me that I can’t deny which feels abandoned – left all alone to figure out the rest of my days.

Thankfully, I know better. I know Bruce would not have left me alone if he had a choice. I know he loves me… still. I know that feeling something doesn’t make it true. So, why? Why do I feel this way so often when I think about Bruce and this journey of grief that I now find myself on?

Well, the answer to that seems to go back a long way. Although, I honestly don’t know exactly where it comes from. However, I do know that feeling abandoned has been as much a part of me as my own DNA. It seems like there have always been people in my life who choose to use shunning as a form of “punishment” when they are angry rather than having the hard conversation to find a way through – either finding forgiveness or coming to an understanding that we can each live with.

Just to give you an example, my first husband could go for weeks (or even months) without talking to me whenever he felt angered or wronged in some way. The days would drag on and on, and I would fall deeper and deeper into depression and self-loathing… I would be devastated. I would lose all self-esteem as I begged and groveled for forgiveness. I can remember feeling so completely alone… and completely abandoned. Until one day, out of the blue, he would announce that he was “through being mad” and had decided to “forgive” me. No conversation… no understanding… nothing that spoke of love or caring.

At the time, I didn’t realize how emotionally abusive that was. However, after I left and began to heal, I figured it out pretty quickly. I came to understand that that was emotional abandonment, and no one deserves that… no one. I also swore I would never beg for someone to love me ever again.

With Bruce, I never did… I never had to because he truly loved me… All of me – the good, the bad, the silly, the irrational… all of me. I can honestly tell you that, because of Bruce, I know what unconditional love is and how wonderful it feels.

The night he died, though, all of those old, awful feelings from the past came rushing back… And to feel abandoned by this man who had loved me so deeply was beyond devasting.

However, life moves on… and I got help. Bruce is still gone; that won’t change. I still feel his absence each and every day. Sometimes, it is when I first wake up and realize all over again that I am the only one in the bed. Sometimes, it is when I come home to an empty house. There are also the times when I have exciting news to share or when my world feels like it is falling apart. No matter how much time passes, his absence can still take me by surprise, (as if that makes sense), and leave me with those same initial feelings of utter loneliness… and abandonment.

At the same time, I am getting quicker at recognizing what is happening and am able to remind myself that letting go “is one of the compromises we are forced to make in life”. * So, while my heart is broken right now, this is not the end… I still feel him beside me and see him in my dreams… I, also, know that he will be there waiting for me when it is my turn to say good-by here… Until then, I will miss him… and I will remind myself that absence is not always abandonment… Sometimes it is simply a temporary hole in my heart.

* Martha Whitmore Hickman, Healing After Loss
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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – In the Beginning

There is no easy way to say that someone has died. It will always sound abrupt, maybe because a life cut off is an abrupt experience. I think that has been on my heart since my friend and neighbor died last weekend. I have spent this week struggling with the idea that he is gone… that his smile and “Hi, Linda” will never again be a part of my days.

I have sat with his wife and felt my heart breaking for her… This is a pain I would never want anyone to experience. I know her experience will be different than mine. Yet, I also know that the road in front of her can be hard and filled with emotions that no one can prepare for ahead of time… Someone might be able to tell you about the hurt, but even that bit of information cannot even begin to prepare you for what is ahead.

Grief is hard and no one can tell you how to do it nor can they go through it for you. The best anyone else can do is to come along beside you and walk with you… holding you up… crying with you… or just sitting in the silence with you.

I really don’t have any words of comfort for my friend who is now on my journey… I wish I did. I wish I knew some magical words to make it all better… or that I could give her a list of tasks and say, “Work your way through these and you will feel a lot better.” But there are no magic words, nor is there a list of things that will take the pain away… I know… I tried.

There are things that will help you navigate this journey and learn to live again, but those vary according to each person and their experience. For now, I will be content to be with her in whatever capacity she needs.

With that in mind, I have spent this week thinking about those first few weeks and months. I even pulled out my journal from that time, just to re-immerse myself in those feelings and my thoughts on what I needed back then when everything felt so raw. These are some of those words from the first two weeks after he was gone…

“Oh God! This is too hard! I can’t do it. God is expecting too much from me. It’s been a week – he needs to come back! All last night I kept thinking – these were our last few moments together. I kept trying to remember his smile, his touch, that last kiss goodnight… I just want 1 more hour – 1 hug… 1 smile… 1 more evening spent snuggling on the couch. I need to lay my head on his chest while he strokes my back and tells me it’s all going to be okay… But I don’t get any of that and it’s not going to be okay. I can’t even breathe without him. Oh God, how am I going to do this?”

“I don’t think I can do this. I miss him so much! I can’t do this by myself. I always told him that I could never do this alone. He would smile, kiss me, and promise me he’d be here… but he’s not! This is our house. This is our bed. So, where is he? Why isn’t he here? Why did he leave me… alone?”

“I don’t know how I am going to do this. I feel so consumed. The days get harder and harder. I know that no one can stay forever, but I am dreading being along all the time. I can’t bring myself to start cleaning out his things… What if this is some huge mistake? What if he comes home? I know… he isn’t coming back. I know what the reality is… I just want him back so badly.”

“This sucks! I am so lonely. Today will be my first day alone. I’m scared… I guess it’s just as well. I have to learn to be alone sometime. And I know everyone else has lives that they need to get back to… I wish I did. I wish I could go back to “our” life together. I wish I could get in my car and drive back to my life with Bruce. I can see how people die of a broken heart, when 1 spouse dies and the other dies soon after. I love my family, and I don’t want my kids to ever hurt like this, but being here without Bruce is just wrong. It is too hard. We love each other – not loved – still love each other. It isn’t a switch. I can’t just turn it off. I still love him. We had plans and dreams… Why? Why is this my reality?”

“Last night was hard. Reality hit… I am no longer the center of anyone’s world. From now on, I will be behind whatever is going on in someone else’s life. I understand that. It is the way it should be. Still, it is hard to know that there is no more Bruce who loves me first and foremost. He had a way of making me feel so important… but that is gone now, and I need to accept that. Is it okay to feel sorry for myself about this for just a little while? Can I grieve that too or am I being selfish? I just want to crawl in a hole. I know I am an emotional drain on everyone around me… I want to be who I was… I want to be happy… But I don’t know how to feel that again… At least, not yet. I love you, Babe. I love you so much! The love won’t stop and now it has nowhere to go.”

Those words have been hard to read after all this time. I took it in small spurts, but it was still hard. With each page, all those same feelings came rushing back into my world… Feelings of being abandoned and utter loneliness… Feelings of hurt and pain and having zero direction – like turning in circles in the middle of a forest and having no idea where to take my first step to find my way out of there. These words were written a long time ago, but the emotions are all still there – still just under the surface of my heart.

Loss is hard… Grief is hard… The start of the journey feels impossible. Yet, with the love and support of good people I have very slowly made my way back to a world where I can experience joy and happiness… A world where I can laugh again without feeling guilty… Yet, I would still love to be able to get in my car and drive back to my life with Bruce… A life I will always remember with love and cherish down to the deepest parts of my soul.

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
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